Hell and High Water
by Aragarna
Summary: Peter and Neal find a boy trapped in the rainwater sewer. But the rescue doesn't go as expected...
1. The Boy

**Hell and High Water**

**Author's Notes: **

Many many thanks to dmk0064 for the proof-reading, and the always insightful advices. All remaining mistakes are mine.

General settings of the story are loosely based on an old episode of ER (season 2), from which this story got its title.

More notes at the end.

**Chapter One: The Boy**

The takedown had gone smoothly. Muller and his crooks had been arrested and no one had been harmed. After an exhausting and nerve-wracking week of following dubious leads, paper trails, and endless stakeouts, Peter could finally relax and appreciate the victory.

"That was a great job in here, Neal," Peter said as he put his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"You weren't bad yourself. Glad I finally had to ask you about Prada." Neal shot back with a smirk.

Peter dismissed the compliment with a roguish smile. "Come on, they weren't even good imitations! A kid – well, a 15 years old girl at least – would have made the difference between the real and the fake ones."

It was almost dusk already when they finally left Muller's lair. It was an abandoned warehouse, next to the docks. Not the most pleasant neighborhood. Not the liveliest either, especially on a cold and rainy day like this one. It had been raining cats and dogs all day. Apart from a few dockers, barely visible through the heavy curtain of rain, not a soul was brave enough to face the weather outside. Looking West, Peter could not even distinguish the shore of New Jersey on the other side of the river. The evening light was decreasing very fast. In half an hour at the most, it would be completely dark.

Peter and Neal waved a quick goodbye to the team and hastily headed to the Taurus. It was parked a couple of blocks away, a little way out of all the FBI vehicles surrounding the warehouse. Though it did not take Peter and Neal more than five minutes to get there, they were soaked by the time they reached the car.

Driving in those conditions would not be a pleasant experience, but Peter could not wait to go home, feel the warmth of his couch, the softness of Satchmo's fur, the delicate skin of Elizabeth….

Peter was reaching for his car keys when he heard what seemed to be a faint scream. Instantly, he was back to the present, all senses in alert.

"Did you hear?" he asked Neal in a whisper.

"Yes. It seems to be coming from there," Neal whispered back, pointing toward the end of the street.

They walked up the street, following the screams. They were now loud enough to be identified as being from a young boy or a girl, crying and calling for help. Yet, the area was totally empty. Unsettled, Peter drew his gun, as he continued his way along the street, checking every corner, every car. Neal's shout made him startle.

"It's coming from there!" he exclaimed, pointing down at the ground. "The manhole!"

The lid was missing, showing a dark open hole, and offering a very dangerous trap in the growing darkness. Peter and Neal carefully crouched and bent over the hole to take a look inside. A kid, about 8 or 9 years old, was standing against the wall of the tunnel, petrified. He looked up at them and stopped crying. He didn't seem particularly reassured though.

The heavy rain of the past days had swollen the flow of waters in the sewer, and even standing on the sidewalk of the tunnel, the kid had water up to his knees.

"Hey buddy," Peter said softly. "You okay?"The boy blinked and didn't answer. He seemed unable to move. "Are you hurt?"

The kid slowly shook his head. Peter sighed with relief. The boy was all right, and communicative. It was just a matter of getting him out of there.

"Look Peter, the last rung of the ladder is broken. And he probably can't reach the upper one."

Following Neal's finger, Peter inspected the ladder. It was indeed defective. The last rung was missing and it was just a matter of time before the other steps corroded away as well.

"Okay buddy, we're gonna get you out of there." Peter told the boy. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"Tommy," the boy said tentatively.

"Tommy, I'm Special Agent Peter Burke. I work for the FBI. And this is Neal," he added pointing at his partner. "He…"

"I'm working with the FBI too," Neal cut off hastily with a bright smile for Tommy and a sideway glance at Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes but let it go. It was exactly what he was about to say but it was not the time for a pointless argument, so he quickly turned back his attention to the kid in the hole.

"So, Tommy, I'm going to come down next to you and I will help you out. How is that?"

Tommy nodded. The presence of the two adults seemed to have reassured him a little. He was still glued to the tunnel wall but he looked slightly more relaxed. He was staring without a blink at Peter with his big brown eyes, as if losing eye contact with his savior might make him disappear into thin air.

Peter was soaked from head to toe, literally. His shoes had not resisted the assault of the heavy rain and his wet socks were unpleasantly scratchy.

"I don't like it Peter," Neal said with a stern voice.

Peter looked at his partner. Kneeled down next to him, Neal was vigorously rubbing his hands together. The cold rain had made them all red. Like Peter's, not a single piece of Neal's clothes was still dry. Water was pouring down the sides of his hat.

Peter didn't like it much either. He was all wet, his hands and his shoe soles made slippery by the rain. The ladder looked anything but safe and the flow of water in the sewage tunnel was furious and growing by the minute. But it was also obvious that the kid was exhausted. He could slip into the water at any moment, and he might not be able to hold on long enough for a rescue team to arrive.

Peter shook his head. "We can't just leave him there."

He rubbed his hands on his shirt in a pointless effort to dry them a little, and turning around he put himself into position to go down through the manhole. Carefully, one foot after the other, Peter went down the ladder, testing each rung before putting all his weight on it, and keeping a firm grip on the bars, just in case. This proved to be a thoughtful precaution as, while he was reaching the last rung, it gave under his foot.

A double exclamation from Tommy and Neal echoed the sinister crack of the rusty metal.

Swinging a little while reaffirming his position on the upper rung, Peter dropped a few inarticulate words.

"Peter…" Neal started, concern filling his voice.

"I'm fine," Peter cut him off grumpily. "Just another rung broke."

"Just… Be careful, please." Peter heard Neal mutter.

Firmly holding the side bars of the ladder, Peter made a short jump and reached the ground. He shivered as the cold water came in contact with the base of his calves. Peter steadied his position on the sidewalk of the tunnel and carefully slid to get closer to Tommy.

The flow was tumultuous and, under the surface, unidentified objects were occasionally hitting Peter's ankles. Now Peter could totally see the terror in the kid who had been trapped here for probably quite some time with little hope of someone coming to his rescue. Not to mention the growing darkness of the tunnel which was giving the scene an even gloomier tone. Shaking his dark feelings, Peter focused on his mission – rescuing Tommy – and turned toward the young fellow.

"Okay, Tommy. Give me your hand," he asked, trying to make his voice casual and positive, as if the situation was anything but perilous.

Peter held out his hand in Tommy's direction. Slowly, the boy detached his hand from the concrete wall and raised it to reach Peter's. Frail fingers clang to solid ones. Tommy held Peter's hand with all his force. His hand was ice-cold.

"Good. That's good." Peter continued, reassuring the kid. "Now come closer. Slide along the wall. There. Good. You're almost there."

Once Tommy was close enough, Peter started sliding back until Tommy himself could reach the ladder and grab it.

"All right. Now comes the hard part," Peter announced. "Tommy, I'm gonna lift you up. You'll grab the highest rung you can, and you'll try to put your feet on the ladder. I've just tested them, all the rung that are left are solid. Don't be scared."

Tommy nodded slightly, obviously not totally convinced by Peter's assurance.

"Neal," Peter called his partner "I'm going to lift Tommy, be ready to help him climb if he needs it."

Looking up, Peter realized that it was already much darker outside, the main source of light being from a lonely street lamp nearby.

"Got it," Neal answered.

"The flow seems to be decreasing," Peter noted. "Good, it's gonna make things a little easier."

But it seemed Neal wasn't of the same opinion.

"No Peter, it's not good!" He yelled, "Hurry up! Get out of here, both of you!"

"Neal –."

"Something must be blocking the flow. But eventually, water will beat whatever it is, and the flow will come back, stronger – Just hurry up, okay?"

Driven by Neal's pressing tone, Peter grabbed Tommy by the waist and lifted him up as high as he could. Neal had just grabbed Tommy's arm when a rumble echoed in the tunnel. In a fraction of second, the rumble became a roar, and looking down the tunnel, Peter saw the wave coming right at him. Hastily, he pushed Tommy's up with one hand and held the ladder with the other.

But the wave was too strong. Peter's feet slipped and he lost his balance. In his fall, he lost his grip and, before he could regain it, he was swept away by the unrestrained waters.

"Peter!" Neal's scream was the last thing he heard before the waters swallowed him in their tumultuous whirl.

To Be Continued…

A/N: To avoid possible confusion, a little note on sewage systems. In most cities, and particularly in big cities, there are 2 independent networks. One for the waste waters (those coming from your sink and bathroom), that takes the water down to the treatment plant. The other is made only for the rain and ground waters. That's the one whose holes you see along the gutters. Those waters are released directly in close rivers and shores. Yes, this isn't really clean, but rainwater flows are too variable to be lead to the treatment plant. It would cause overflows and hence biggest pollution problems. Now, you'll think twice before throwing anything in the gutter, right? ;-)


	2. The Trap

**Author's note: **many many thanks to all of you who left me such enthousiastic comments. They are truly appreciated.

**Chapter Two: The Trap**

Neal grabbed Tommy's hand as the kid struggled to find support on the ladder. That's when he heard the rumble of the water echoing in the tunnel's wall. Whatever had been blocking the flow had broken and now the waters rushed down the tunnel. The anxiety roiling his stomach rose up. Tommy found a firm grip on the ladder, and Peter pushed him to help him climb the last couple of rungs. At that moment, the wave hit Peter. Neal froze, his hand still holding Tommy, but his eyes watching with horror his friend staggered, lost his grip, fell in the water and disappeared. Everything happened so fast that Neal had a hard time realizing what happened. An instant Peter was there, and the next, he was gone, swallowed by the terrible flow of the furious waters.

"Peter!"

Neal felt panic spike, paralyzing him. He couldn't move, couldn't think. Tommy suddenly weighing more on his hold snapped him back to the reality. Neal shook himself, readjusted his grip, held Tommy up, helped him get out to reach the surface, and put feet on the ground of the street, safe.

But all his movements were purely mechanical. Neal's entire mind was still filled with the image of Peter vanishing in the dark depth of the tunnel.

He had to find Peter. For a moment he considered jumping down in the manhole behind Peter. But the furiousness of the flow made him reconsider that option. This tunnel had to go somewhere. He rose up and studied the configuration of the sewage grid. The tunnel was likely to follow the street. Neal started to run down the street, noting the manholes indicating the direction of the tunnel. It was running beneath the street level in direction of the Hudson. Of course, it was the storm sewer, draining the rainwaters into the river. Fighting the growing panic, Neal quickened his run.

"Peter!" He repeatedly screamed his partner's name, sounding each time more desperate.

"Peter!"

But the only sound Neal could hear was the sound of the rain still falling. It seemed it would never stop. It was as if there was a leak in the sky and nobody up there would fix it, so it would be raining on Earth until the sky dried up.

"Peter!

* * *

The wave hit him, and Peter was overwhelmed by fear at the same time as he was swallowed by waters. After a short moment of panic and confusion, Peter managed to pull himself together, and reached the surface. Unfortunately, the flow was really strong, and despite all his efforts, he couldn't find anything to hold onto. He was carried away by the waters and it seemed impossible he could latch onto anything to stop his progress. Well, he was wrong. His course was violently stopped when he hit an obstacle blocking the way and an excruciating pain radiated from his right leg. Leaning against what had stopped him, he realized it was a grille made of large metallic bars. His leg had been through, but the rest of his body wasn't able to follow. Trying to pull back his leg, a piercing throb told him that his leg had been hurt.

Peter tried to make out his surroundings but it was completely dark inside the tunnel. The only source of light was coming from the end of the tunnel, about 10 feet away, on the other side of the grille. There were numerous objects surrounding Peter. Some were floating around, others, heavier, sinking below the surface. In the dark, it was hard to identify them. Thinking about it, Peter wasn't sure he wanted to know what sort of objects could have been washed away by the rain. At the end of the line, all of them, like Peter, had found their way blocked by the grille, and they were accumulating there, partially blocking the flow and making the water level rise. That grille was probably meant to prevent people venturing inside the tunnel from the outside. But from the inside, it had become a cruel obstacle, transforming the tunnel into a dreary prison.

Squirming, Peter reached into his pockets but found them empty. His phone was gone. He couldn't call for help. The feeling of fear that had kicked in when Peter was hit by the wave had decreased, but was now replaced by a growing frustration. Running out of ideas, Peter started losing patience.

What about the boy? Did he manage to get out of the tunnel? He wasn't there with Peter; it was a good sign, right? Peter tried to recall the instant before the wave hit him. He was pushing Tommy up. Neal had grabbed him. Peter didn't remember feeling him fall. The boy had to have been able to get out. He had to.

* * *

Neal finally reached the shore. The tunnel was emerging there, discharging its waters in a small basin below, before it was released in the river. Following the edge of the basin, Neal scanned the area for any signs of Peter.

"Peter!" He called once again. But there was no sign of his friend, neither in the basin, nor in the river.

"Neal!"

Neal stopped all ears. Was he hearing voices?

"Neal, are you there?"

Relief washed over Neal as he turned around to see where the voice was coming from. He discovered the entrance of the tunnel.

Neal made a mental apology to Byron, as he carefully climbed down into the basin. The water flood had rendered its edges dangerously uncertain. In the basin, water reached the level of Neal's chest. It was so cold that Neal couldn't suppress a shiver. Luckily, it was still swallow enough that he could touch bottom. Fighting against the flow, Neal reached the entrance of the tunnel, which was only a few inches above the water level. Looking in, he tried to distinguish his friend, but all he could see was darkness.

"Peter?"

"Neal!" Relief was obvious in Peter's voice too. "Neal, I'm trapped. I might need some help."

Neal's heart sank back in his chest. That didn't sound good, not at all. Neal struggled against the water to climb into the tunnel. Carefully, he stood on his feet, bending his head under the roof of the tunnel. A small sidewalk was running on a side of the tunnel. Neal stepped up on it, where the flow was less important, and went into the darkness.

As his eyes became more accustomed to the lack of light, Neal started to distinguish figures and shadows.

Just a few feet from him was a grille made of a set of strong bars. Behind the grille, Peter was crouched, up to the waist in the water. Neal came up to him and crouched down next to the grille.

"No comment on me being behind bars." Peter said, in a failed attempt to sound confident.

"Are you okay?" Neal asked, his voice filled with concern.

"No, I am not." Peter answered dryly. "I'm stuck here. My leg is wrenched between the bars and I can't seem to pull it back."

Neal tilted his head, frowning. "If it went in, it must be able to come out."

"Ya think?"

"I'll help you." Neal plunged his hand in the water to try and reach Peter's leg, assess the situation. "I'll give you a push. If you take hold –."

He was cut off by a strong moan from Peter.

"Was that your leg?" Neal asked, alarmed.

"Yes." Peter hissed between his teeth. "Neal. I think it's broken."

Neal felt his fear spike once more, his heart squeezing tighter. He had to get Peter out of here. He gripped the bars with both hands, trying to shake the grille. When it didn't move, he shook it harder. It had to move, it had to break!

"Neal, hey, Neal!"

Neal blinked, finally releasing the bars.

"Neal, focus," Peter called. "Do you have your cellphone?"

"No, I left it in the car after the takedown."

Peter groaned. "I've lost mine when I fell. Go get some help. Find a phone. Call 911."

"I can't leave you there, Peter!"

"Tommy! Where's Tommy?" Peter suddenly asked. "Did he make it out safe?"

Neal paused. "I…I don't know. I took him out but… I don't know where he is. Up there, outside. In the street. I guess. Peter, you disappeared and I –"

"Neal, go back there, make sure Tommy is safe, find a phone."

"But Peter –"

"Neal, I'm not going anywhere. Go!"

Reluctantly, Neal left Peter alone in his prison. The relief of finding him alive had been destroyed by the fear for his precarious situation. He was injured, stuck in cold water and trapped by solid metallic bars.

Neal hurried back to the street, looking for Tommy, now worried and also feeling a little guilty that he had forgotten about the boy. But Tommy was simply standing at the end of the road, by the basin, waiting under the rain. He was shivering.

"Did you find the Super Agent?" he asked Neal as soon as he caught sight of him.

Neal couldn't suppress a slight grin. "It's not 'Super', it's 'Special', but yeah I found him. He needs help." Neal didn't want to worry the kid more than necessary and didn't share the extent of his concern.

Making a willing effort to put his feelings aside, Neal instead focused on his plan of action. Find a phone, keep Tommy safe. Thinking about it, maybe the boy could actually be an asset.

"Tommy, do you live around here?"

Tommy nodded and pointed toward the first buildings. "Over there, on the left, then next right." Following the direction, Neal became conscious of the remote position of the basin. He had not realized he had run so far, looking for Peter. The Taurus was another couple of blocks beyond Tommy's.

"Do you think your parents would let me use your phone?"

Tommy shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay, let's go."

Neal patted Tommy's back and gestured for him to lead the way. They ran down the block, Neal trailing after Tommy. It took them about 15 minutes to reach Tommy's building. At the door, Tommy pressed a button on the entry phone. He was out of breath, shaking and barely standing on his feet. They waited for what seemed an eternity, both hopping up and down with impatience.

"You sure they're home?" Neal asked.

Tommy looked up at him, panicked. "Where are they, then?"

Doing his best not to show his own frustration, Neal dialed all the names on the intercom, getting a disapproving look from the boy.

Static, and finally a voice: "Hello?"

"Hi," Neal answered with his best charming voice, "I'm your neighbor, from across the hall. I've forgotten my key."

The door buzzed open.

"Thanks!" Neal launched as he rushed inside with Tommy. "Where?"

"Third floor."

Neal ran up the stairs two steps at a time. Catching up behind him, a breathless Tommy gestured toward the entrance door of his apartment.

Neal banged on the door, but nobody answered.

"Do you have the key?" Neal asked, hopeful.

Tommy shook his head.

"That's okay," Neal said as his reached for his lock pick set in the inside pocket of his jacket. "I can unlock the door."

Neal kneeled down in front of the door. He studied the lock for a moment then chose 2 picks from his set and started fidgeting inside the keyhole with his picks.

Tommy came closer and kneeled down next to Neal, studying all his movements.

"FBI agents can open all the doors?" There was a mix of excitement and anxiety in his voice.

Neal gave him a side look.

"I'm not a –" he started. But thinking twice, he bit his tongue. Tommy had his dose of scare for the day. Telling him there were thieves out there able to unlock any door was probably not the best thing to reassure him. "Yes, we can," he finally said with a smile, mentally apologizing to Peter for the implied lie that he was an FBI agent.

The lock finally broke free. Neal stood up and slowly pushed the door. The apartment was in darkness. Neal and Tommy went in.

To Be Continued…


	3. The Cold

**Chapter Three: The Cold**

Cold.

He was so cold.

His leg didn't even hurt anymore. Actually he couldn't feel it at all. He couldn't feel his hands either. They were so numbed by the cold, he could barely move them. His body was shaken by spasms of shivers. He had to clench his jaws very hard to prevent them from chattering.

Water had reached his chest. The ton of unknown objects of all sizes packed around him and against the grille were slowing down the flow and making the water level inexorably rise on this side of the grille.

At first, he had tried to use a small plank he had found as a lever to free his leg. But all he had managed to do was inflict more pain to his injured leg. At one point, he had pulled so hard that the shooting pain almost caused him to pass out. In the end, he had to admit he wouldn't manage to get his leg out without help, and had to resign himself to wait for back-up.

So, he adopted a new strategy, consisting of trying to keep his body warm. Hunkered as tight as possible, Peter had tucked his free leg against his body and wrapped his arms around it. Then he has waited. But now he was feeling really cold, and he was starting to wonder how much longer he would have to hold on.

Peter had lost track of time. How long Neal had been gone? 15 minutes? 2 hours? For sure it had been long enough. Neal should have found a phone by now. What was taking him so long? Maybe he was outside, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Peter hoped with all his heart that nothing bad had happened to his friend. If only he could come back, just to let him know he was okay, and tell him help was on its way.

What about Tommy? The kid had looked so scared in the tunnel. Did Neal find him? Was he safe now? Was he home?

Home.

Elizabeth.

That evening curled on the sofa with his wife by his side and his dog at his feet had never been so appealing and at the same time so far away…

"Peter?"

Peter startled. He was dozing off and hadn't realized it. Looking up, he saw a crude light dancing on the walls of the tunnel, making him screw his eyes. A shadow was approaching.

* * *

Holding the flashlight between his teeth, Neal climbed in the tunnel. The flow was stronger, making his progress more laborious. Carefully, Neal pulled himself up, and flattening against the wall, he slowly slided back to Peter's side. He kneeled down in the water next to his friend.

"Neal, you're back!" Peter breathed. His voice sounded weird, and weak.

"Hey Peter," Neal called softly, "how are you?"

"Cold."

Neal's chest tightened. He was himself shivering, and he hasn't been back in the tunnel for 5 minutes. He could only imagine how cold Peter must feel. But now wasn't the time for self-pity. Neal was overwhelmed by an implacable need to "do something". A little voice inside his head was telling him they were running out of time. He had to act, get Peter out of here.

Neal took the backpack he had brought with him and opened it.

"I brought a few tools. I'm gonna get you out of here." He said as he dug into his bag. The absence of response from Peter made him looked up. His friend's head was tilted, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes opened. Alarmed, Neal reached out through the bars and grabbed Peter's shoulder.

"Peter!"

Peter jerked and blinked.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I must have dozed off…"

"Yes, you did." Neal was doing his best not to sound too worried. "Peter, please, stay awake."

He rummaged through his bag and took out some biscuits.

"Here, eat this. They're courtesy of Tommy. It'll wake you up, and will give you some more strength." He handed a biscuit to Peter, who sluggishly raised his hand. When their fingers touched, Neal felt Peter's. They were ice-cold. He helped him close his grip on the biscuit, and Peter slowly started to eat.

"Where's Tommy?" He asked.

"He is safe, at home," Neal explained, "I took him home, and we called 911. I told him to wait there until the paramedics arrive."

"Good, this is good. Weren't his parents home?"

"No. They probably went out to look for him. Maybe they went to the police. But he is safe there, Peter, don't worry."

Peter nodded.

"Would you have a nice hot coffee to go with those biscuits, by chance?"

"Sorry, I didn't have time to make a pot." Neal took out his tools. "I've brought a car jack and a hacksaw instead. Let's get you out."

Peter frowned. "Where did you get these?" His voice was the one of Special Agent Burke, and for once, Neal was glad to hear it. Peter was still alert enough to be suspicious – and rightly so…

"I might have found a garage on my way back…" As Peter remained silent, Neal went defensive. "Peter, I just wanted to –"

But Peter cut him off, a tired smile faintly lighting his face. "I think I could close my eyes on this one, if it gets me out of here. And of course, you'll put the tools back, right?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Yes, sure…"

He took the car jack and positioned it between the two bars which were keeping Peter's leg trapped. He started to turn, but the bars didn't let go of their prey. Neal had to use all his weight on the jack to make it turn.

"Can you move your leg?"

"Can't feel it. It's been a while…"

Neal plunged his hands in the water to try and feel Peter's limb. He patted it as gently as possible. Peter didn't react, which Neal wasn't sure was a good or bad thing. In any case, it seemed stuck, and Neal stood up to force the jack to turn once again. Despite the effort, he could hardly suppress the shiver caused by the cold water. While putting all his weight on the jack, Neal kept checking on Peter, sending sidelong looks to make sure his friend was still with him. Peter had fallen quiet again. His arms were tucked hard around his body, not as much to keep warm than to stop his tremors. His skin was white as snow, and his lips, tightly shut, were all blue.

"Hey buddy," Neal asked softly, "still with me?"

"Hmmm" was the only answer he received.

"Hey," Neal called as he reached out for his friend, gently patting his cheek, "Peter, stay with me. Talk to me."

"I'm cold."

"I know. I'm taking you out. I need you to stay with me. Why don't you tell me a story?"

"Neal…" Peter protested in a weak voice.

"Come on, Peter, don't give up on me."

"I'm not!"

Suddenly he felt the jack give away, and Neal almost fell face first in the water. This time, one of the bars seemed to have bent a little. Neal searched for Peter's leg, and indeed, there was a little more space between it and the bar.

"Your leg is free. Can you move it back?"

Peter untangled himself and moved back, doing his best to free his leg out from the grille. But his moves were made clumsy by the flow and the cold that had conquered his whole body. The effort was obviously demanding. Neal, as gently as possible, push Peter's leg through the bars, making sure not to hurt it against the metal.

"Good, that's good. Just a little more. There you go," he encouraged his friend.

The first phase of Neal's rescue mission had been successful. Peter was now free, but still on the wrong side of the grille. Not to mention that the water level kept rising, and the flow growing…

"What now?" the agent asked, exhaustion more and more evident in all his features as time went by. Laboriously, he moved to the sidewalk to seat, his back against the wall.

Neal was worried to death, but tried with all his heart not to show it. Oblivious of his own discomfort, he kept his focus on his mission, and on his friend.

Switching tools, he put back the car jack in the bag and took out the hacksaw.

"Now I'm gonna saw the bars. I'll probably need to saw two, at the top and at the bottom. Try and make yourself comfortable. And keep talking. I need to hear you."

He started to saw.

"Peter, talk to me, please."

"Sorry... But I'm so tired…"

"I know. Hold on, just a little longer."

"Maybe I could just rest for a little while…"

"No!" Neal snapped, panic spiking. "Peter, you need to stay awake!"

"hmm, 'kay."

Overriding the panic, Neal thought hard on any conversation topic that could keep Peter alert.

"Okay, tell me, your top three most difficult criminals to catch."

No response. Neal stopped sawing and looked up. Peter was dozing off again. Passing his arm through the bars, Neal grabbing him by the collar, and shook him. "Peter, stay awake!"

Peter startled. "What-"

"Please, hold on."

"-'m trying!"

"Try harder!"

Neal bit his lips. That sounded harsh. He hated being so hard to his friend, but now was not the time to worry about good manners. Peter had to stay awake, keep his body functioning, producing as much heat as it could. And hypothermia wasn't the only danger. With Peter falling asleep in so much water, the risk of drowning was increasing dangerously.

Neal had to hurry. He resumed his task to cut the bars as he kept talking to Peter.

"Hold on buddy. I'm almost through the first bar. See, we're lucky everything's so rusty after all."

"Don't feel much lucky…" Peter muttered sternly.

"So, you didn't answer, what is your top three?"

"Neal," Peter started, hesitant, "in case I don't make it…"

Neal felt his heart distinctly sink in his chest.

"No, Peter, we're not having this conversation, please…" He refused to think about it. He wouldn't admit the simple possibility that Peter wouldn't make it. Peter would make it. He was almost done with the first bar, damn it.

"Please, Neal, listen to me." Peter's voice was no more than a murmur. A pleading murmur that broke Neal's heart. "I want you to know, I – It was good, working with you. You – You're worth the trouble. And you can do good. You can make a difference…"

Neal felt a strong pain rising in his chest. His heart was aching. His eyes were burning. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be. He would not let his friend die. It was just not possible. If only this freaking bar would break! Enraged, he hit it repeatedly, and finally it broke. Another small victory. Neal moved down his saw to attack the bottom of the bar as low as possible.

"Hold on, you hold on."

" Trying… But…"

Peter moved closer to the grille, but his moves were not coordinated. Neal caught him just in time before he plunged in the dark waters.

"Eh eh, easy. Stay here. Keep your head up. Take it easy."

Peter grabbed his arm. "You'll take care of El for me? It's gonna be hard for her…"

Neal's heart squeezed tightly in his chest. But Neal was still not ready to admit defeat just yet. The image of a devastated Elizabeth appeared in his mind. It was unbearable.

"Peter, you need to hold on. For El. She needs you, you know that."

"I'm doing my best, believe me. But just in case…"

"There is no 'just in case'. You'll make it, for El, for your team. All those people who count on you." He freed himself from Peter's weak hold. Peter's arm fell in the water with a splash as Neal went back to saw the grille.

"It's so hard..."

"But imagine how hard it'll be for us!" Neal shouted. "Look Peter, I don't want to have to tell El you didn't fight enough, you hear me? You hold on!" Neal was almost screaming as he franticly continued to saw the bar.

"Neal, promise me. You'll stay out of trouble, right?"

"Peter, we'll have this conversation tomorrow, okay?"

"Neal, give me your word."

"No."

"Neal, please…"

Neal's heart shattered into millions of pieces. But he had to hold on. For the two of them. Because tomorrow without Peter was just not an option. Peter could not leave him now. Not after turning his whole life over. Not after all they went through together. Neal needed Peter to show him the way in this new life. Peter had no right to go.

Of course he would stay out of trouble, for Peter. To honor his memory he would become a model citizen. But Neal didn't want to have to honor his memory. He wanted to continue to drive him crazy, bend the rules, and blur limits of the line between legal and illegal. Because that would mean Peter was alive. Plus being a model citizen would be no fun, and would have no point, if Peter weren't there.

"You'll have to live to see it," he said fiercely.

Resigned, Peter laid his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Fine," he said.

Neal had to fight the urge to grab his friend, tug him hard in his arms, anything to give him that solace of comfort that was prevented by that condemning grille. Instead, all he could do was keep him awake, and saw with all his heart.

"Peter," he repeated, trying not to sound too harsh. "Keep your eyes opened."

The bottom of the bar gave way. "Look, we're almost there!"

Neal hurried to the second bar and carried on his work. His hands were hurting, but he didn't feel the pain.

"Still with me Peter?"

"Hmmm"

"Talk to me."

Peter groaned.

"For El, Peter, remember. Think of El. Tell me a story. Tell me how you two met."

"You know the story."

"I know you put her under surveillance when she was working at that gallery downtown, that's all. What was your first thought when you saw her?"

"She was so beautiful… Like an apparition, you know…"

"I think I do." Neal said tenderly. "What made you feel she was worth the misuse of federal resources?"

This time, Peter didn't answer. Once again, Neal reached out to shake him.

"Stay awake buddy, I'm almost done."

"Sorry…" Peter mumbled.

"It's okay. Look, what don't you sing something?"

"What?"

"Sing something, whatever. It'll tell me that you're awake. I don't know… What about 'Take Me Out To the Ball Game'? It's an easy one."

Peter sighed.

"Come on," Neal said encouragingly, "I'll sing along. _Take me out to the ball game_…"

"_Take me out with the crowd..._"

Peter's whisper was shaking and not really in tune, but it gave Neal a renewed strength.

They sang in chorus as Neal sawed. They sang it three times when the saw went through the bar. Peter's voice was less and less audible. Until it wasn't at all.

_To Be Continued…_


	4. The Rescue

**A/N: Many many thanks from the bottom of my heart to all of you who left me so nice comments. :-)**

**Chapter Four: The Rescue**

A splash. Neal raised his head. Peter had vanished. Panic overwhelmed the young man.

"Peter!" he screamed.

He plunged his hands in the water, trying to find Peter. He had to contort himself to pass through the bars, but the space was too small. He felt clothes and grabbed it. It was heavy. Forcing his body to stretch out and ignoring the astute pain from his shoulder blocked by the half-cut bar, he managed to enforce his hold, and finally got Peter's head out of the water. But the Agent wasn't responding.

"Stay with me, Peter! Stay with me!"

Neal did his best to reposition Peter's unresponsive body against the wall.

"Hold on! You hold on!"

Terrified, Neal grabbed the half cut bar and shook it, pulled it with all his force, leaning his feet against the grille. Finally, forces increased by his rising panic, Neal managed to bend it, just as Peter was slipping again in the dark waters. In no time, Neal had clung a firm grip on his unconscious friend, and pulled him through the grille, not without difficulties. Neal lost his balance and fell on his back. The strong flow of the water flushed him out of the tunnel, into the exterior basin. Disoriented, Neal struggled to regain his senses, but never did he lose his grip on Peter. He hit the bottom, and with a push from the heels, he reached the surface. Gasping for air, Neal was blinded by flashes of light. Paramedics had arrived. It was damn time. Swimming to the shore, he felt hands grabbing and lifting him. Peter was torn away from him. Everything became all fuzzy, spinning. Strong hands forced him to sit. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't make the words out. All he could see was Peter, lying on a gurney, people around him, checking his vitals, putting a tube in his throat, pulling out a crash cart, hurrying to an ambulance. The doors of the ambulance slammed shut, making Neal jumped.

He felt cold inside, numbed. The scene was uncomfortably familiar.

Kate.

Mozzie.

Ellen.

All swallowed away by an ambulance. But then, each time, even though his world had seemed to fall apart, there had been that hand on his shoulder. Peter's solid hand, anchoring him, keeping him together, telling him he wasn't alone. But today, Peter was in the ambulance, and there was nobody to put a hand on his shoulder.

One had made it. One out of three. That wasn't a very good statistic.

Neal broke into tears. They roll down his cheeks, thick and cold, merging with the drops of rain still falling from the sky.

He had failed. After all Peter had done for him, Neal had not been able to save him. He, Neal Caffrey, escape extraordinaire, had let his friend die being bars…

He thought about Elizabeth. She will be devastated, heartbroken. Neal couldn't imagine Peter without El, or El without Peter. Their relationship was organic. Neal remembered Peter's distress when El had been kidnapped, how he had stayed on the verge of a total breakdown until they were reunited. He remembered El's agony after Peter's car accident, the pain in her eyes. Neal couldn't bear El's distress. Someone had to call her. He should, but he didn't want to. He wasn't strong enough.

"Neal…" A small voice finally took him out of his lethargy. Neal turned around and saw Tommy approaching, escorted by a paramedic. Neal furiously brushed his tears away and attempted a smile.

"Sir," the paramedic said, "You need to let us check you up. We want to take Tommy to the hospital too, simple precaution. Probably nothing serious, but he seems a little feverish. But he refused to come to the hospital before checking on you first. You should come with us too."

Tommy approached Neal and put his hand in Neal's. "Where's Peter?"

Neal had to clear his throat before he could answer. "They took him in the ambulance."

"Is he gonna be all right?"

Neal felt his chest tighten. He pulled Tommy closer and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I hope," he whispered.

"Sir, we need to go," a paramedic called.

Neal looked around him, and for the first time became aware of his surroundings. Two paramedics were standing beside an ambulance, waiting for them.

* * *

In the hospital, he asked for Peter, but they forced him into a room. He lost track of Tommy. Someone came in and checked his vitals. Then he was told to wait. A doctor would come and see him shortly. But Neal was in no mood to accept orders. He slipped out of the room and went to look for Peter. It didn't take him long to catch sight of him, behind the glassed entrance doors of a room labeled "Trauma 1". There were a lot of people, doctors and nurses, surrounding Peter's unconscious body lying on a gurney, moving around like a ballet – A frightening ballet. They were sticking things in his body, cutting him open, wrapping him up. Neal had no idea what they were doing but it was plain scary. Neal couldn't bear the sight of his friend, lying there, so pale and lifeless-like. But he just couldn't resign himself to leave.

One of the doctors finally spotted him and pointed him out with a nod to a nurse, who came out.

"How is he?" Neal asked bluntly.

"Sir, you can't stay here," she said as she tried to take him away.

"I can't leave. This is Peter!" Neal protested, freeing himself from her hold.

"What is your name?" the nurse asked gently.

"Neal Caffrey."

"Neal, you need to calm down. Please follow me."

"No! Peter needs me here! Tell me, how is he…"

"Are you a relative?"

"I'm his partner – I mean, we work together. I have to call his wife, Elizabeth."

"We will."

"No… I think I should do it myself."

"Okay then, let me lead you to the reception desk."

Neal nodded but didn't move. He couldn't detach his look from Peter.

Inside, the doctor gestured to the nurse to come back.

"I'll be right back," she told Neal. "Don't go anywhere."

The doctor and the nurse had a short discussion before she headed back to Neal.

"The doctor needs a few specifications, while you are here," she explained. "You're Peter's friend?"

"Yes, Peter Burke, he is an FBI Agent."

"It is my understanding that he was in the waters?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"I – I don't know." Neal looked at his wrist, looking for a watch that wasn't there. He realized he had no idea what time it was. He shook his head. "What time is it? I – it happened at dusk. Night was just falling."

The nurse noted something on a clipboard.

"Good. And how long was he unconscious?"

Neal fought back the anxiety climbing into his throat.

"Not long. A few minutes, right before I took him out."

The nurse raised an eyebrow and noted something else. "Good. Does he have any conditions, is he on any medication that we should know about?"

"I don't think so."

"You're not sure?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I would know." How ironical that he knew Peter's medical record because a long time ago, in another life, Mozzie had taught him; _know your enemy_.

"Was he is general good shape before the accident?"

"Yes, he was."

"Okay. Thank you, Neal. That's it for now. Please, come with me to the reception desk."

Neal followed the nurse. His heart was weighting heavily in his chest. He had to call El. Someone handed him a phone. His hands were shaking as he dialled El's number.

"Elizabeth Burke?" El's voice was as joyfull as always. Neal didn't know how to break the news, break her heart."Hello?" El called from the other side of the line.

"Elizabeth…" Neal couldn't suppress the tremor in his voice, which, of course, El caught immediately.

"Neal?" She asked, alarmed. "What happened?"

"Peter fell in the sewer. He... We're at Bellevue."

El remained silent. Neal could hear muffled sounds, a harsh breath.

"How bad is he?" El finally asked with a faded voice.

"He's unconscious, but…" Neal didn't know if he should be optimistically reassuring or pessimistically prudent. But he just wasn't strong enough for the later. "He'll be fine." _Because he had to_.

More muffled sounds, and a door slammed shut.

"Thanks Neal," El said hastily. "Be right there." And she hung up.

"You should let me take care of you, now," the nurse said gently as she took the phone from his hands.

Neal shook his head, stubborn. But she was persistent.

"Neal, listen. You're all wet and you're shaking. Let me take care of you. Your friend will need you, but for now we are taking care of him. You have to take care of yourself. Do you understand?"

Neal nodded slowly, finally accepting and then followed the nurse. She led him to the same room he had been told to wait in when he first came in. It was not until the nurse invited him to sit on the exam bed that Neal realized how exhausted he was. His legs could barely hold him anymore and he crashed more than he sat on the bed. His hands hurt. He looked at them and noticed for the first time they were scratched and bleeding.

The nurse sat on a stool in front of him, and cleaned his injured hands before bandaging them.

"There is a small bathroom down the hall. You can have a shower, warm up and change," she said as she handed him blue scrubs and a towel. "But don't wonder off, I'm keeping an eye on you."

Neal smiled. "Thank you…"

"Carol."

"Thank you, Carol."

As the nurse was about to leave the room, he called her back. "Wait!" The nurse stopped, and turned around. "What – How is he?"

The nurse gave Neal a sympathetic smile. "It's a bit soon to tell. We'll get back to you when we'll know more."

* * *

When Neal returned from the bathroom, Carol was waiting for him with a blanket.

"Here, keep warm," she said as she handed it to him. "The doctor wants to talk to you."

Neal followed her back to the reception desk where the doctor was filling paperwork.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Ross. I'm the doctor who took care of your friend. Has his wife arrived?"

Neal shook his head. "Not yet."

Neal thought his head was about to explode. His ears were buzzing. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it felt like it wanted to run. Not that Neal could blame it. A part of him wanted to run too. He didn't want to listen. He couldn't ear. He made out a few words: fibrillation, hypothermia, external blood circulation.

"… Given his good shape, I'm rather optimistic for a full recovery."

Neal's heart missed a beat and he felt the room spinning.

"What?"

"We warmed up his blood by external bypass. His temp was critical, but is now slowly raising. We need to remain cautious of course, he is not out of the woods yet, but save for any complications – which is unlikely, he should recover."

Silent, Neal looked up at the doctor. The room stopped moving. Neal let go a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Your friend is just out of ICU. We moved him to a private room. He is still unconscious, but you can go and see him."

* * *

It was hard, seeing Peter lying on the hospital bed, looking vulnerable, hooked to a beeping monitor. He was still extremely pale, buried under giant blankets. Neal sat on a chair next to the bed. He curled himself under his own blanket and waited.

_To Be Continued…_


	5. The Waking

**A/N: **This is the end! Thank you all for your wonderful support. I hope you enjoyed the ride. :-)

**Chapter Five: The Waking**

Hold on.

He had to hold on. Hold on on what? What for?

He was confused.

Worried.

Scared.

Something terrible was going to happen. He had to prevent it.

Elizabeth.

Something was going to happen to Elizabeth.

He felt guilty. It was his fault. How could it be his fault?

He was cold.

Tired.

But he had to stay awake.

Did he? Didn't he just fall asleep?

Had he failed, then?

What about Elizabeth? He couldn't let anything happen to her. He wouldn't.

He had to hold on.

He felt numbed. Dizzy.

Fluffy?

Was it a blanket on top of him? It was warm, comfortable. He seemed to be in a bed.

He started distinguished voices, whispers. Was it El? Oh yes it was El…

She sounded worried, sad. He must have failed. Damn.

No he couldn't. He wouldn't have done this to El.

But done what?

Something deliciously warm was enveloping his hand. It was another hand. El's fingers. She was here. He squeezed her hand.

"Peter?" There was delight in her voice. So maybe he hadn't failed after all. He had to see her, make sure she was safe.

Finally Peter managed to open his eyes. He blinked repeatedly but refused to close his eyes. She was here, by his side. Peter felt a wave of relief washing over his body. She was smiling. She was as beautiful as ever. She seemed tired though.

"Hey Hon," she said softly. "Welcome back."

Peter frowned. Back from where? He tried to talk but his throat was dry and no sounds came out.

El brushed his hair. "Don't try and talk, honey. You're at the hospital. I'm calling the doctor." The hand touching his head disappeared for a moment but came back, caressing his forehead, his cheek.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Peter shook his head.

"You were trapped in a tunnel."

Peter thought hard, and finally, it all came back. The tunnel, the grille, he was trapped. Neal came to try and get him out. Where was Neal now? Peter looked around and caught sight of his friend on the other side of his bed. Neal smiled at him. "You did it, buddy."

Peter was so tired… But he couldn't let go. He had a hard time focusing on what was going on around him. Someone – a doctor? – came in. The doctor talked to him but he couldn't register what he was talking about. All that mattered was that El was right there. He wouldn't release his hold on her hand. He kept looking at her, and she was looking back at him.

"You should rest now, Peter. You did good."

But Peter couldn't get rid of the feeling of anxiety that he shouldn't let go. "No," he said in a hoarse voice, shaking his head.

El smiled at him tenderly, and she came to lie down next to him in the bed. She lifted up the cover and slipped under it to huddle against him. Her body was warm and soft.

"I'm safe Honey," she whispered in his ear, as if she was reading his mind. "You can sleep now."

Peter didn't need to be told twice. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

* * *

When he woke up again, Peter's mind was much clearer. He still felt cold but much more relaxed. El was sleeping by his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her breathing had the peaceful steadiness of sleep.

He was in a small bedroom, surrounded by monitors. An IV line was stuck in his hand.

His broken leg was trapped in a cast. It was sore, but nothing unbearable. It was a little annoying that it would keep him off-duty for a while. But he thought again about what had just happened, how he felt, trapped and freezing in the dark, desperate that he wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough… He had to admit it could have been really worse.

The door opened slowly and Neal's head appeared. His gaze went directly to Peter and a warm grin illuminated his face as he noticed Peter was awake. He entered the room, a cup of coffee in the hand. He was wearing scrubs – definitely not his usual standard.

"Good morning, Peter."

"Good morning." His voice was croaky.

El looked up, awakened and kissed him. "Hi, Sweetheart," she said.

Peter looked at his wife and smiled. "Hi, Hon," he whispered.

"How do you feel?" El asked.

She handed him a glass of water. Peter sat up in his bed and took his hand out to grab the glass and drank a little.

"Not too bad. I just feel cold," he answered as he quickly slipped his hand back inside the blanket.

"The doctor said it was to be expected," Neal said sitting down on a chair beside the bed.

The smell of his coffee was filling the room. It smelled so good and would be so much hotter than that glass of water.

"Any coffee for me?" Peter asked, hopefully.

"I think we should ask the doctor first. I'm going to get him, tell him you're awake."

Shortly after, Neal came back with the doctor. Peter remembered confusedly seeing him before, when he first woke up. His name tag noted "Dr. Ross".

"Agent Burke, glad to see you're awake. How do you feel?"

"I'm cold. Otherwise, I think I'm fine."

The doctor nodded and checked the monitor Peter was hooked to.

"Your temperature is still a bit low, you might feel cold for a couple of days. Mostly, you need to stay warm and get some rest."

"Can I have a coffee? And maybe something to eat, too."

The doctor laughed lightly. "I'd advise to wait a little for the coffee. It's not the easiest drink on an empty stomach. And you're just recovering from a severe hypothermia that required a serious procedure to warm you up. But appetite is a good sign. You can try and see if you can eat some soup. I'll see with the nurse."

Peter made a face. Though… On a second thought, a hot soup sounded strangely attractive.

"How is your leg?" the doctor asked.

Peter shrugged. "I don't really feel it."

"You don't have to play tough with me, Agent Burke," the doctor grinned.

"Okay, it hurts a little," Peter admitted. "How bad is it?"

The doctor nodded. "I'll increase the painkiller dosage. Your tibia is fractured. But it was a net break, it should heal properly."

Peter winced a bit at the thought of his fractured bone.

"Another reason to take it easy," the doctor pointed out. "You also have a few superficial lacerations on your left side. All in all, you've been very lucky."

"Oh really?"

"From what I've heard, if it hadn't been for your friend here, things might have been much more complicated."

Peter felt El tense against his body. He looked at Neal, who simply shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"He probably saved your life," the doctor went on. "He took you out of the water just in time. Right before the paramedics arrived on the scene, from what I've heard. With water that cold, every minute counts, you know. It's incredible you stayed conscious for so long."

Peter and Neal exchanged a meaningful look.

"When will I be able to go home?" Peter asked the doctor.

"I want to keep you until your temperature is back to normal and properly regulated, to make sure you do not develop any complications. If everything goes fine, you'll be released tomorrow, with the strict order to get some rest."

"I'll make sure he will, doctor," El said.

The doctor tilted his head and smiled at her. "Perfect. I'll come back later. Now, get some rest, Agent Burke."

The doctor left. Elizabeth, finally reassured for her husband's sake, went to fresh up a little in the bathroom. Peter looked more closely at his friend seated by his side. In all honesty, he looked like hell. He had dark shadows around his eyes, and his expert two days stubble looked definitely more like three day shag. His hair was all scruffy and there was something a little off in his attitude. He was avoiding eye contact with Peter and was instead focusing on his bandaged hands.

"What happened to your hands?"

Neal shrugged. "That's from handling the saw." He grinned. "This kind of crude manual work is definitely not my forte."

Peter chuckled. "Well, you did get me out of there after all. So you must have been good enough at that crude work."

"I guess…"

"Thank you, Neal."

The young man simply shrugged and looked down.

"No I mean it. You saved my life – again. I would hug you but it's way too warm under these blankets to get out."

Neal smiled, but still there seemed to be something bothering him.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

Neal waved it off. "Nothing."

"Neal. I know you. I can see there is something bothering you."

Neal shook his head. "No really, Peter, it's foolish, it'll go away. I'm just glad you're alive."

Peter grinned. "Me too. Really, thank you."

Suddenly something popped in his mind. "Oh I know… You hoped I wouldn't remember – And I gotta say, my memory is really blurry. But… Didn't you say you'd promise me to be good?"

Neal laughed. "No, I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't. I said you'll have to live to see it. Didn't say how long…"

"Damn. I should be more specific next time…"

Neal unvolutarily squeezed his coffee cup in his hand and spilled some coffee on his lap.

"Neal, are you gonna tell me what is wrong with you?"

"You won't let it go, will you?"

Peter shrugged. "You're the one who kept telling me not too…"

Neal sighed.

"It's just that… I was afraid you'd give up on me."

Peter frowned. "I don't follow you. Did you do something?"

"No, it's not that. But what you said – about working with me, about taking care of Elizabeth. I was scared. Scared that you were going to die. And I… At some point I almost felt angry at you. Because you have no right to take my old life away and then just disappear. You're responsible for me…" Neal looked up at Peter, contrite. "Told you it was foolish. But the truth is, I just don't know what I would do, without you. I need you to stay by my side. I don't feel strong enough to walk that new path on my own. Not just yet. And I already lost too many people in my life, Peter. I can't lose you too."

Peter felt a knot in his throat. It wasn't often that Neal was so open and simply honest with his feelings. If there had been times when Peter had doubt he had really reached out to his unconventional partner, all reservations were wiped away by Neal's confession. It was heartwarming and deeply touching. A little intimidating too, to realize how important Peter was for his friend.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," Neal said more lightly. "I'm just glad you're alive. But promise me it won't happen again."

"You'll promise me to stay out of trouble?"

Neal couldn't help a grin. "Touché."

Peter looked away, at some invisible point in front of him. "I was scared too," he said in a low voice. "I felt so helpless. I didn't want to give up, but… I really thought for a moment that I wouldn't make it. If it weren't for you…"

"Don't cut yourself short, you're the one who held on long enough."

"I wouldn't have without you. See, it's moments like these that I'm glad I took your deal."

Neal laughed. "My laywer should have read the papers more carefully…"

After a moment, Peter looked up at his friend, and locked his gaze in his. "Neal, I'll stay by your side as long as you need me there. I won't give up on you."

Neal nodded, an embarrassed smile appearing on his lips. In a fraction of second, he flashed his boyish grin and deflected. "I guess I can tell you the truth about those scratches on your left side then…"

Peter raised en eyebrow.

"That's when I took you out. I wasn't very careful, you rubbed against the grille…"

Peter chuckled. "You weren't careful… Jeez Neal…"

"Does it tickle?"

"You have no idea!"

* * *

It was early in the afternoon when they heard a knock on the door, and Dr Ross came in. He checked Peter's temperature and heart rate and looked satisfied.

"You have a visitor, Agent Burke," the doctor announced as he opened the door and gestured to someone outside to come in.

Peter raised an eyebrow, surprised. Reese, Diana and Jones weren't supposed to visit him until tonight, after work. But it wasn't one of his co-workers who entered the room. It was Tommy, followed by his parents. The kid seemed intimidated and he glanced Peter with a questioning look.

"Hey Tommy!" Peter greeted the kid happily. "How are you?"

Tommy smiled timidly. "I'm fine," he said with a small voice. He was fidgeting with a piece of paper he was holding. He looked up at his parents.

"We wanted to thank you and make sure you were okay, Agent Burke," the father said. "Tommy was released last night, but he didn't want to leave the hospital without seeing you and your friend. As you were still resting, I promised to come back when you were better."

Peter gave Tommy a warm smile. "This is really sweet of you, kiddo. I'm glad to see you're okay. I'm fine too. I should go home tomorrow."

Tommy nodded. Finally, he stepped closer to Peter.

"Thank you, Peter, for rescuing me," he said as he handed Peter the piece of paper. It was a drawing, the typical kind of drawing kids do, with awkward shapes and bright colors. It represented what Peter assumed was him, rescuing Tommy, holding the kid high, while a giant wave was menacing to swallow them. On top of it, in big letters, was written "Get well Super Agent Peter".

It was a wave of warm emotion that was now threatening to overwhelm Peter. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He put his hand on Tommy's head, then drew him close and gave him a hug.

"Thank you, buddy," Peter said with a fond smile.

Fin. :-)


End file.
